Chapter Ten

The fire had been put out by the time the soldiers dragged Jedra and Kayan back into the compound. The woman who had captured them had made Jedra walk until he collapsed from the pain shooting through his leg, then she had slung his arms over her shoulders and carried him the rest of the way, his toes dragging in the dirt behind her. She dumped him on the ground in front of the demolished gladiators' quarters and directed the soldiers who had been carrying Kayan to drop her there, too.

Two of the psionicists were still there, one of the women and one of the older men, and Jedra immediately felt their minds invading his own. He tried to fight them off, but without Kayan he was no match for them. They crushed his shield without pausing and swept through his unguarded psyche like an invading army. Jedra saw and felt images from his life flashing past as they triggered his memories, searching for his identity and his purpose in attacking them. Finally, when they were satisfied that they'd learned enough, they retreated, putting him to sleep on their way out much the way someone might blow out a candle upon leaving a room.

He woke again to a kick in the ribs. Rough hands hauled him erect before he could react, and he stood blinking in the sudden daylight, balancing on his one good leg while he tried to ignore the pain lancing through his right. It was a little better than he'd remembered it; evidently someone had done some healing work on it during the night, but they hadn't finished the job. When his eyes focused, he saw a well-dressed nobleman of about fifty years standing before him, his gray hair still wet from his morning bath. He was flanked by two soldiers and a psionicist on either side of him. The psionicists were different ones from the four Jedra had fought last night; these were both middle-aged women. They hadn't made any hostile moves yet, but Jedra could feel their presence hovering near him, ready in case he tried anything. His danger sense also warned him of a threat from behind, but the soldier holding him had one hand around his neck so he couldn't turn his head to see who or what it was.

The noble spoke in a nasal, but still haughty, voice. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Kitarak did manage to escape in all the confusion. Fortunately, you didn't make it away yourselves, so we'll consider it a fair trade." He didn't wait for a response, but went right on to say, "My first impulse when we caught you was to have you beheaded a quarter inch at a time, but I've decided against that. You do seem somewhat resourceful, and I hate to waste anything valuable. I certainly hope you make good gladiators, though, because you just robbed me of a champion, and you're going to replace him whether you can fight or not."

"Gladiators?" Jedra croaked, his mouth dry.

"Yes, gladiators. Your training will begin immediately, and this will be your master." The noble nodded to someone behind Jedra, and the soldiers holding him and Kayan loosened their grip so they could turn around to see who it was.

Jedra recognized the swarthy, musclebound elf the moment he saw him. "Sahalik!" he exclaimed, his voice rising to a squeak.

Kayan's eyes were wide with shock or terror or both.

"Oh, you already know each other?" the noble asked. "Wonderful. That will make things move along even faster, I'm sure. Sahalik, I leave them in your hands." He turned away and walked toward the soot-blackened mansion, his soldiers following him.

The psionicists stayed behind, as did the two soldiers holding Kayan and Jedra. And of course, Sahalik. The big elf grinned his gap-toothed grin and clapped his meaty hands on his new gladiators' shoulders. "We might as well get started," he said gleefully. "If you're going to replace Kitarak, you've got a battle to fight in six days."

The first "practice" session was every bit as brutal as Jedra had expected it to be. There was no pretense of instruction; while the psionicists kept him from using any of his mental powers against his trainer, Sahalik merely beat Jedra senseless, pummeling the young half-elf with his fists until he could no longer stand, then kicking him in the ribs, back, head, and groin until Jedra had curled into a tight ball of pain. The elf warrior was an expert; he didn't break any bones, but he left no muscle unbruised. Even so, as soldiers dragged Jedra from the practice field, he found strength enough to say with his bloody tongue and lips, "If you touch Kayan, I'll rip your heart out with my bare hands."

Sahalik laughed. "She is mine to do with as I please, half-breed. But I'm not interested in your woman. I've got better ways to spend my time now." He waved an arm toward the two other gladiators who had been locked up with Kitarak, who were now helping rebuild their quarters, and Jedra saw the elf woman stop work and wave back at him. She was tall, with light skin, long blond hair, and slender arms and legs. She was no doubt the model of beauty among elves, but Jedra thought she looked like a sun-bleached stick.

Sahalik called out to her, "Shani, come here." While she laid down her tools and trotted over to the practice field, Sahalik said to Jedra, "You need not worry about me. Shani will train Kayan."

Sure enough, as the soldiers dragged Jedra off the field and the psionicists began to heal his wounds for the next session, he watched the elf woman batter Kayan the same way Sahalik had beaten him. Kayan got in a few good licks of her own, bloodying Shani's nose with one lucky punch, but Shani soon got the better of her. It wasn't long before the soldiers dragged Kayan over to the edge of the field and laid her on her back beside Jedra.

He was just on the edge of blacking out from the pain. The noble's psionicists were experts at healing the damage to his body without dulling his senses first, so he felt the agony of every injury again as they repaired it, but they were also expert at keeping him from escaping into unconsciousness. He wondered if they would allow him to mindspeak with Kayan. Maybe if he tried they would knock him out.

Are you all right? he sent.

Fine, she sent back, the sarcasm dripping from the single word. But I'd be a lot better if you hadn't bungled our escape.

Me? he said, nearly forgetting his pain in his surprise. I didn't bungle our escape. You wouldn't let me try until it was too late. Oh, so it's my fault we were captured?

The psionicists chose that moment to clamp down on their exchange. Jedra felt their shield fill his mind like water filling a glass, forcing out any other contact. "Let me speak," he said aloud.

One of the psionicists, the older of the two women, said, "You can talk all you want to out loud, but you'll limit your use of psionics to the battlefield. We won't have you plotting an escape right under our noses."

So, they hadn't heard his and Kayan's exchange; they had only sensed that they were mindspeaking. Kitarak's training had evidently paid off in that respect, at least; they weren't broadcasting for all to hear anymore. That was something to remember for later, if they ever did find a chance to plan an escape.

Kayan mumbled between puffed, bleeding lips, "You mean I could have used psionics against that elf bitch?"

The woman laughed. "No, we wouldn't have let you do that, not in practice. But use everything you've got when you fight in the arena. There's only one prize for second place in the games."

She looked like a kindly mother giving her daughter a good piece of advice, and her cheery tone of voice added to the illusion, but she was talking about death. And Jedra and Kayan were both still in pain-pain the psionicists could have masked with a thought.

"How can you do this to people?" he gasped. "You've been in our minds. You know what it feels like."